


Why Bahorels and Bossuets Don't Mix

by jolymusichetta



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolymusichetta/pseuds/jolymusichetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Day AU. After Musichetta comes back from the Musain, she expects her boys to be, as they always are, watching TV or doing something she often joins in on. She's greeted by the sight of both Joly and Bossuet bruised and bloodied. And she really hates Bahorel for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Bahorels and Bossuets Don't Mix

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to say that there's no Bahorel in this, just a faint mentioning.

When Musichetta got home from her shift at the Musian, she tossed her keys on the counter and sighed, pulling her hair free of the ponytail. "I'm home," she called.

"Bathroom!" both Joly and Bossuet called back in unison, followed by a slight yelp. Musichetta sighed again, walking into the bathroom and seeing Bossuet perched on the basin of the sink. He was battered and bruised, his face covered in scrapes. He was also bleeding, as well as having dried blood on himself. There was no way for Musichetta to tell how bad the injury was. Then again, he had probably just lost another argument with a tree. She couldn't tell if Joly was injured, due to the fact that he was obscured by the open door of the medicine cabinet. He was rummaging around inside, so at least he was well enough to put his medical skills to good use. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Bossuet's mouth, avoiding the split lip, and pulled back, resting her forehead on his. They both gave indignant squawks when Joly separated them.

"Away from my patient," he said, pressing a kiss to Musichetta's cheek and grabbing a baby wipe from the container. He put on gloves, because of those pathogens that could be transferred through blood, before he started wiping away the dried blood. He took care not to miss an inch and wasn't stingy on the wipes, either. By the time the blood was cleaned up, he had gone through at least four. "Sorry," he whispered before he uncapped the antiseptic and sprayed it over the cuts and scrapes. Bossuet gave a small whimper at the stinging sensation, if only because he knew that it was the sound Joly wanted to hear when the antiseptic was used. (If the person didn't feel the sting, that meant that the antiseptic wasn't doing it's job and the cuts were way more likely to get infected.) Joly spread on the liquid bandages before he kissed a spot that wasn't injured. "You're done," he said, helping Bossuet down. Bossuet went off to lie down in bed, purely because he didn't want to injure himself further.

Now that Musichetta, who had been focused on watching Joly take care of Bossuet, only now started to realize that he was in just as bad, if not worse, shape than Bossuet. She didn't say anything as he glanced down at his knuckles and sighed, before grabbing another baby wipe and looking in the mirror so he could see where the blood was. As he began to wipe off the dried blood, Musichetta spoke. "What the hell happened to you two?" She took the wipe away from Joly and motioned for him to get up on the counter, the same spot Bossuet had just vacated. She wiped off his cheeks carefully, frowning at the amount of blood.

"We went for a walk with Bahorel ... "

Musichetta nodded in understanding, wiping away the remnants of a nosebleed. "Outnumbered?" 

Joly nodded, reaching over to grab an ACE bandage to wrap his knuckles. He hissed in pain and dropped the bandage. "Ow. Damn. Yeah, they're broken." 

Musichetta sighed and continued cleaning Joly off, wiping at the dried blood on his lips. "I think you're in worse condition than Bossuet," she murmured thoughtfully, as if she were planning to have quiet a few words with Bahorel about dragging her boys into fights, to which she already knew that he would say it was of their own free will. In that case, she would likely smack him over the head and roll her eyes as she walked away, calling him a Neanderthal as she left. 

Joly nodded, gently rubbing his still bleeding knuckles. "Worse he got was a split lip. I tried to keep him as out of the fight as I could." Musichetta just gave him a weak smile in return. When he felt a hand over his, he jerked away, shaking his head. "Don't," he mumbled, frowning. 

"At least take some painkillers," Musichetta suggested, already reaching for the bottle of painkillers she had long ago filled with sleeping pills. They were only used when one of the boys had caused themselves so much injury that they wouldn't be able to sleep. She let Joly see the bottle as she tapped two sleeping pills into her hand. For all the times he had taken painkillers, he had not once noticed that they differed from sleeping pills. Not that Musichetta was complaining. He popped the pills quickly and hopped down from the counter. "Go lie down with Bossuet. I'll be in shortly." Joly nodded, pressing a kiss to Musichetta's lips before he shuffled off into the bedroom. 

By the time Musichetta had brought in the three cups of tea, all very carefully balanced, Joly was already asleep, his head tucked under Bossuet's chin and Bossuet's bruised arms wrapped around his lanky body. Musichetta sighed fondly and sat on the other side of Joly, carefully running her hand through his hair. "How's your lip, love?" Musichetta asked, leaning over Joly to press a kiss to the corner of Bossuet's mouth. 

Bossuet just shrugged. "Hurts," he mumbled, his lip making the word sound weird. He pulled Joly closer, as if he was making the pain ebb away. Musichetta sighed, carefully cupping his jaw in hand and turning his head to face her. 

"Would you like some painkillers?"

Bossuet raised an eyebrow. "Are they actually painkillers?" he asked pointedly, a teasing smirk on his lips. Musichetta stuck her tongue out at him before she stood to go dig out a bottle of real painkillers from the medicine cabinet. By the time she had returned, Bossuet had fallen asleep too, protectively hugging Joly to his chest. 

As Musichetta changed into a pair of Joly's shorts and one of Bossuet's shirts, she muttered, "These two. Honestly." Flicking off the lights, she curled up in bed beside her boys.


End file.
